


Alchemy

by orphan_account



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:09:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><i>alchemy >noun  1/ the medieval forerunner of chemistry, concerned particularly with attempts to convert common metals into gold or to find a universal elixir.  2/ a mysterious or paradoxical process.</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	Alchemy

**Author's Note:**

> _alchemy &gt;noun 1/ the medieval forerunner of chemistry, concerned particularly with attempts to convert common metals into gold or to find a universal elixir. 2/ a mysterious or paradoxical process._

(There had been that time in Kingston; a better establishment than what was frequented by men of the Navy, much better, but they had such money, and the woman had pulled him from the bed with a sweet smile and called for hot water. A copper tub stood over near the wall, a dent at the base sucking in the light; copper was easy to shape because it was strong. Inside it the heat near scalded and put a strange prickle all over his skin, and she'd seen something on his face and laughed at him, and he'd thought to get out, but no. That was a boy's thought, not a man's. The water had trembled around her arm as she dipped it down below and put her hand on him.)

Bush knows green men by their looks, even before they start clambering like a cat all over the rigging. It's mostly in the way they look at a ship, like she's a bulk of strange things, bits and pieces and fore and aft, and not a trim beauty that'll carry you as far as she can, so long as you take care with her. He remembers being half the height and stealing out onto the deck during the dogwatch, nothing but blackness and a fresh wind and the way the cables had shivered under his fingers. He'd roughed his palms red from hauling and carrying all over the ship, trying to do more than a boy's work, and then suddenly he could touch her. 

It needs time. Bush thinks that if a man works hard he'll know.

(Why? she had said, and it was unnerving the way she seemed like his old teacher. Not in looks, this one was dark and lean and too pretty about the mouth, but she knew the answer and seemed to know what was in Bush's head, too. He'd told her there was a way of things. A means of getting a task done, and done right. He forgets, now, what she had said in reply. At least, he doesn't care to recall.)

Hornblower had likely never sprinted the rigging in his life, but he's one of those men that should always have his soles squarely on the deck. And he's already thinking that far ahead, doesn't have a need to go to the fighting top to see it.

It's not the way he looks at the ship that gives him away. It's the way he looks at men.

(He'd been feeling reckless, or maybe stupid, his wits left behind in place of the ale. Doesn't signify much of anything now, but he'd wondered if all the girls did it, in that place, if they all said _turn over, then_ just like she had. A strike of madness perhaps, because he did turn over, and she did put her mouth on him, and the heat from the bath came flooding back into his face and everywhere. He'd spent himself into the bedclothes. Thought about it for days after.)


End file.
